Memories
by Ciphernetics
Summary: Dipper has two sets of memories from the Bipper incident. Hijinks ensue.


The memories were the weirdest part.

As Dipper had lain in the hospital bed, aching but triumphant, the adrenaline of success slowly ebbed. Eventually, visiting hours had come to an end and Mabel and Stan had been reluctantly sent home, leaving dipper with the room all to himself.  
He was on an absurd amount of painkillers, but it felt like something was off, something dipper couldn't put his finger on. He trailed his fingers lazily across the bandage on his left arm, the one covering up the fork punctures. He remembered the feeling of the tines digging into the flesh, the hot wetness that had bubbled up there and slid down his arm.

Wait. He remembered? But he didn't do that, bill-  
Oh.

That was… disorienting. He distinctly remember watching it happen, but… from two different views? Or, technically the same view, since it was his body? Maybe it was something to do with the synapses in his brain retaining memory? Dipper wasn't sure if he should be concerned, but… Whatever. He was way too out of it to think about the logic behind it, and he soon drifted into a fortunately dreamless sleep.

A week or two passed while Dipper healed, lounging around the shack due to a rare display of generous sympathy from Stan. In fact, he'd been oddly… dismissive of the whole incident. Dipper wasn't all together sure, but Stan had almost looked relieved to see the journal back on dipper's nightstand. Dipper decided not to press the issue, and thanked his lucky stars he didn't have to help out with the mystery tours for a while.

Evening found him sitting slumped against the arm of the couch, watching a rerun of '_Pirate Werewolf 2: In Space This Time_'. Stan shuffled past the doorway, stopping to grunt in Dipper's direction. " 'm going to bed, kid. Don't stay up too late, don't be too loud, yadda yadda." He climbed the stairs and Dipper called after him. "Goodnight, Grunkle Stan."

The house was silent again. Mabel was over at Candy's place for the night, and her absence was almost palpable. Normally he and Mabel would be in bed by now, talking about everything and nothing until one or both of them fell asleep. Dipped toyed with the remote, waiting for the ad break to end. When it did, he unmuted the TV and turned it down a few clicks.  
Captain Wolfgang had been captured by the beautiful and mysterious aliens from the galaxy of sensualia. The captain fought bravely as they strung him up in their ship's torture chambers, but was soon rendered helpless, struggling at his bonds. "Let me go!" he snarled, quite bravely, but the aliens showed him no mercy, ripping off his shirt's buttons and leaving him bare-chested. One of them swayed onscreen, the bright blue tip of what appeared to be an electric whip trailing behind her. Dipper's eyes were locked to that whip instantly, and it took him a second to look back at the Captain, chained against the wall. The Captain growled at her, showing pointed canines, but the feminine scourge merely smirked. She lifted the whip. Dipper sat up slightly. She drew back the whip and snapped it forward, a lightning slash of blue. The tip hit the captain with a sharp crack, and he howled in pain. Dipper fidgeted slightly in his seat, glancing around to make sure Grunkle Stan was still in bed.  
He didn't remember this part, but it was… good. It was a good movie. A classic, in fact! Dipper nodded to himself. There was no reason to feel weird about watching such a well-known film! …..

Alone.

In the dark.

By himself.

With no one else around.

The whip cracked again and again, and sharp red lines blossomed on the captain's skin. He was panting, his fists clenched against the pain. Dipper shivered slightly at the sight of the trails of blood running down the man's chest, and, without thinking, he gripped his own arm, right about where his own wounds had been. It throbbed under his nails and he dug them in a bit harder as he watched the female creatures jab the captain with all sorts of pointed space junk.  
The grunts and howls from the TV seemed to get louder and louder, and Dipper reached for the remote to mute it. As soon as the silence returned, Dipper noticed his own breathing had sped up. He scowled and pushed himself off the couch, rubbing the half-moon indents his nails had left in his arm. He did his best not to think about how they'd got there.

He snuck upstairs, pushing open the attic door and slipping inside. Groping for the lamp in the dark, Dipper nearly tripped over some of his dirty laundry and stumbled forward before reaching his bed. Shrugging, he left the lamp off and climbed into bed since he was already in his pyjamas anyway. Not having to get dressed for work had its benifits.  
He slid between the cool covers and stared at the ceiling in silence. Something about that wouldn't leave his mind alone. He curled up in the dark, rewatching the scene over and over in his mind. Dipper shivered again and scrunched his eyes shut, willing himself to sleep. Finally, he slept.

_Pain, radiating down his arms, his legs, his spine. Dipper screamed to no one in particular, but his mouth wouldn't seem to work. He looked down at his body. There were black things curled around his arms, almost like vines, pulling him down. Looking closer, Dipper saw there were thorns along the length of the vine things, slowly dragging down his skin and leaving angry red lines. He tried to shake them off, but it was no use. They clung tightly. Another one- where were these coming from? Behind him, somewhere, but before he could crane his head to see a black tendril wrapped itself around his throat. Dipper felt like he was on fire, bucking to try and loosen the thing around his neck. He thrashed, over and over, until-_

Dipper woke with a jerk. His legs were tangled in the bed sheets and a faint sheen of sweat coated his forehead. Heaving a sigh, he twisted to look at his alarm clock. 3:47… only about 4 hours since he'd fallen asleep. He turned over, and froze. Was that… Dipper groaned inwardly.

He was hard.  
Again.

Those stupid dreams… he didn't understand. They weren't even, like, sexy dreams! He began to sharply rearrange the bedsheets, intending to go back to sleep, when a thought struck him. He bit his lip.

Mabel wasn't here, and Stan was asleep…

besides, it's healthy for boys his ages to do… that, every once in a while. Right? Yeah. Yeah, Dipper decided.  
He pushed down his boxers, hardness bobbing up towards him. Spitting in his palm, He ran a hand down his cock, gripping it at the base and shivering at the odd warmth that travelled down his legs. He slowly pumped his hand up and down, tilting his head back and letting out a slow breath. He fantasised vaguely, thinking not of anyone in particular but rather imagining the feeling of skin on skin, thinking about the sensation of his hand on himself.  
He sped up his strokes. His eyelids felt heavy, and his heart was racing now. He felt that familiar warmth pooling in his stomach and he swiped his thumb over the tip of his cock to gather the pre-cum that was beading there. He moved faster, breathing heavily.  
A few minutes passed this way with no progress, and Dipper began to feel a little frustrated. His hand was starting to get tired, but he just couldn't seem to get any further. The hand on his cock slowed and he grasped for something more to think about. Wendy? He tried, but he just couldn't think of a realistic fantasy.  
He groaned, stretching his cramped legs out. The still-bruised flesh twinged in protest, and a memory popped into Dipper's head. A memory of jamming his- no, bills- yes, no, his- arm into a drawer. And a memory of hands (his own?) slapping his face. A shock of arousal coursed through Dipper and he drew a sharp breath. He didn't want to think about that, but his cock was suddenly twitching quite insistently. He glared down at it, but it didn't take the hint. Dipper wasn't going to think about… that! No way.

That was just too creepy.

He sighed and lay down, flinging a hand over his eyes. He had just resolved to try and ignore it again when a voice broke through the quiet. A piercingly familiar one.

"Whyda stop, pine tree?"

Dipper yelped and scrambled to pull his boxers up, whipping his head around. The room was empty, and still dark. He reached over to turn his lamp on. Light flooded the room, which was definitely much greyer than usual.  
A white eye suddenly materialized, hovering over his bed, and the rest of Bill followed suit, brick by brick. He looked delightfully smug- or as smug as one can look without a (visible?) mouth.  
"Bill?!" Dipper screeched. "Bill!" The demon answered. Dipper spluttered. "What are you doing here?! Were you w-watching-"  
"Yep!" Bill said, leaning on his cane in mid-air.  
"But… I don't… Why?!"  
Bill snorted, somehow. "I told you I'd be watching you. I wasn't just saying that, kid. But, hey, look at it this way: how is this any less embarrassing than all the other stuff you do when you're alone? Like that time shooting star was out walking that pig and you tried on her lip-gloss-"  
"I get it," Dipper ground out, "but why are you showing up now? Are you going to try and possess me again or whatever? Because I found a symbol in the journal that said it would stop possession and I-"  
"No, I'm not here for any of that. Right now, anyway. It's just hard to ignore someone when they're pretty much howling your name constantly, y'know?" Dipper narrowed his eyes at bill.  
Bill Stared back. "…What?" dipper said. "Your name? What do you- I don't- I wasn't… trying to summon you, or anything, so why are you here?" Bill laughed. "Newsflash, pine tree, but you were definitely calling me, in your dreams."

After a second, Dipper realized that the only dream he'd had since he'd last seen bill had been the… the one with…

Dipper felt his face flush red, and he actively looked anywhere but Bill, who was looking more and more delighted with every passing second. "Something wrong, kid? Not quite the dreamboat you were expecting?" Dipper was silent, hugging himself and trying to think of a way to get out of this. Bill blinked down at him owlishly.  
"Tell you what, pine tree, now that I'm here, how bout I give you a hand finishing that dream? You don't even have to make a deal with me. A freebie, just cause I like ya," Dipper's eyes widened as some sort of shadow seemed to drip from the golden triangle, like black smoke, tendrils of it reaching up his bed and curling around his legs. He tried to jerk them back, but that blackness was definitely more solid than it looked and it only tightened on his legs, like rope. Dipper shrieked up at Bill.  
"Stop! Get this stuff off me, o-or else I'll-" Bill laughed and floated down to rest a black hand on dipper's head. "You'll what, kid? Hurt me? Please. Besides, did you forget I'm in the mindscape? I know what you dream about, kid, and lemme tell you, you're a weird one. I think you meat sacks actually have a word for it- masochist? Yeah, that. I guess it explains how much fun it was to beat your body up though. Last guy I did that to didn't feel nearly as great." Dipper grimaced.  
"I'm not a masochist! I just- it was your fault, you're the masochist!" He panted. He was still trying to pull his legs free when another tendril drifted up his body, brushing against his crotch on the way to wrap softly around his throat. Dipper shuddered; he was still half hard from earlier, and he'd actually forgotten about that for a moment.  
Bill beamed at him. "There you go, kid, that's the spirit!" Dipper glared up at him. "Why would you do this? What's the catch here?" Bill raised his hands in front of him. "Whoa, kid, I'm just tryina be nice here! Plus, there's only so much of your pathetic pining I can listen to." Bill giggled. "Hah! Pining! Get it? Pine tree? Pining? Oh, I'm good."

Dipper was silent.

"Aw, lighten up," Bill rolled his eye. "Here." Another spike of shadow branched out and slipped under the elastic of Dipper's boxers to wrap around his cock. Dipper gasped and bucked slightly at the sudden stimulation. It felt odd, like… not warm, or cold, just… smooth. It slid up slowly and Dipper's eyes fluttered shut. "S…Stop…" He hissed. "Really, kid? Cause I don't think,"  
the tendril around his cock squeezed slightly,  
"you really want me to."

Dipper was silent, biting his lip harshly. "Yeah, I thought so. Look, I promise I won't hurt you." Dipper sighed slightly, relieved.

"Badly." Bill finished. Dipper's eyes shot open and he opened his mouth to protest but the black tendril around his neck tightened, and he choked. It squeezed a little tighter, and Dippers head started to spin. Just before he felt like he was about to pass out, it loosened.  
He gasped for breath, and just as he was getting his breathing under control it tightened again, just enough to make breathing difficult but not impossible. "It's still missing something…" Bill mumbled to himself. "Oh! Of course!"  
he snapped his fingers, and suddenly thorns popped out along the black vines around dipper's legs and neck. The one placed more intimately thankfully remained spike-free. Dipper yelped at the sudden sharpness, and whined as the thorns slid along his skin. It was just like all those dreams. The pain travelled up his body and mingled with the pleasure, and Dipper's breathing got harsher, hissing through his teeth. Bill just watched, silently.  
He reached down to Dipper's shoulder, trailing his fingers towards the collarbone. He paused at a particular tender spot on dippers neck, seemingly contemplative. Suddenly, he dug his fingers, inexplicably clawed, into dipper's skin. Dipper screamed, or tried to, and arched up. The tendril curled around his cock twisted and slid, up and down, the end of it flicking ruthlessly at the sensitive slit on the end.  
Dipper was sweating, and shaking uncontrollably, and so very close. He could feel that warmth coiling in his stomach. The approaching orgasm mixed with his dazed head and burning, striped skin felt, surreal. He bucked up into the shadow, desperately trying to find release.

All at once, everything stopped moving. Dipper whined, and whipped his head around to face bill. "What?!"  
"Yknow, kid, you haven't been very polite to me tonight." Bill looked nonchalantly at his hands, checking out his nails. "I don't know if you deserve this after all. I mean, you haven't even said the magic word…" Oh. _Ohhhh_. Oh, _no_. He wanted Dipper to…  
No way.

Dipper just sat there, scowling and trying not to blush harder. Trying. The shadows gave a sharp tug on his cock, and Dipper almost sobbed.

"I'm waiting, Pine tree."

Dipper was starting to get frantic. He really really didn't want to beg, but he could feel the edge slipping away with every moment, and he needed that pleasure/pain mix back desperately. His thoughts were stull clouded, but he managed to gasp out a "…Please." Bill looked ecstatic, and the shadow started moving again, thank god.  
"See, kid, that was easy! Pays to have manners." Dipper just nodded, not really sure what he was agreeing with, just focussing on the way his body was burning up and aching and filling with pleasure, all at once. Another tendril, slightly wider, stretched from the shadow and rubbed along the bloody claw marks on dippers shoulder. He almost didn't notice, but as the shadow soaked up the blood, Bill almost seemed to get a little… darker? Maybe it was just his imagination. He was too overwhelmed to trust his eyes right now, and he let his head fall back as a particularly unique little twisty move was executed on his cock.  
Bill floated in front of Dipper and threaded his fingers through dipper's messy, damp hair. He grabbed hold of the hair, and yanked it harshly, pulling dipper's head up to look at him. Dipper groaned brokenly and thrust his hips faster into the tendril.

"Dipper." Bill said quietly.

Stunned, dipper opened his eyes halfway to look at bill. He'd never heard Bill call him by his name. The demon stared at him, watching his chest rise and fall faster and faster as dipper struggled for breath. Keeping the one hand tightly pulling dipper's head, Bill extended the other and lay it flat on his chest. And then he scraped his claws down roughly. Dipper cried out, and that final sharp warmth sent him over the edge. His vision whited out as he came, and it felt like lungs felt like they might burst. Wave after wave of pleasure overwhelmed him, and he shook violently as his muscles contracted. He barely registered Bill humming quietly before he passed out.

Dipper woke with a jerk. His legs were tangled in the bedsheets and a faint sheen of sweat coated his forehead. He jerked upright and looked around, but he was alone. He glanced at the alarm clock beside him. 3:48.

Dipper scrubbed a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. Just a dream… something on his hand caught his eye. Writing, on his palm. His stomach dropped as he read it.

"That was fun! Till next time, kid!"


End file.
